


{{sad blaine is sad for no reason}} {{aka mkp can't title things}}

by shamelessly_mkp



Series: Baby Kinksters [5]
Category: Glee
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, Gen, KINK: D/s, KINK: bondage, Kinky Gen, M/M, Non-Sexual Kink, baby kinksters are adorable, blaine is the subbiest sub to ever sub, kink: 24/7, kink: light, kink: non-sexual, putting the d/s in bdsm, warning: depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 12:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelessly_mkp/pseuds/shamelessly_mkp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing was <i>wrong</i>, per se.</p>
            </blockquote>





	{{sad blaine is sad for no reason}} {{aka mkp can't title things}}

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: in Baby Kinkster ‘verse, Blaine has clinical depression. As such, sometimes he has depressive episodes, which may be triggered by something or may be completely out of the blue. This depicts one of his not-so-good-days, and is very much in his head and headspace. Please do not read this if you think it will be triggering for you. There are no thoughts or mentions of suicide or self-injury.
> 
> Also available on my LJ and tumblr.
> 
> As always, unbeta’d. Full of run-on sentences and sentence fragments. Heavy abuse of commas, em dashes, and italics. (I could probably use an editor throwing things at me whenever I do these things, but in the meantime I will carry on.)

“—so then I said, Isabella, don’t be ridiculous, of  _course_  we’ll be there and then she asked me what I was going to wear, which, really?  She  _knows_  how well I dress.  I mean, look at this outfit.”   
  
  
Blaine obediently gave his boyfriend an appreciative once-over.  It was a pretty awesome outfit.  Kurt’s legs went on for miles.   
  
  
“And then she admitted she couldn’t decide what to wear herself, so then we had to have an immediate fashtervention - that’s a fashion intervention -”   
  
“Got it.”   
  
“And the next thing we knew, it was coming up on six o’clock and we hadn’t even finalized the article list yet!  I’m so glad that they were all easy choices this month.  Otherwise who knows when we would have gotten out of there!”   
  
Blaine was glad too. He’d been feeling just a little off all day - not sick or anything, just…not quite right - and the thought of how it would have felt, coming home to an empty apartment, was almost unbearable.   
  
Kurt was still talking, but Blaine wasn’t really sure what he was talking about anymore - he’d zoned out and it seemed like too much effort to tune back in, so he just  _mmmd_ in agreement at appropriate intervals and let the rise and fall of Kurt’s voice wash over him.   
  
“-laine.  Blaine!”   
  
Blaine jerked guiltily at the sound of Kurt calling his name. “Sorry,” he said in a rush.  “What were you saying?”   
  
Kurt was looking him over with a strange, careful look in his eyes, and Blaine couldn’t help but look away in discomfort.  He felt raw, exposed - just the feel of Kurt’s gaze was making the hair on the back of his neck stand up and  _ugh_.  It was stupid, so stupid - nothing was  _wrong_ , but Blaine still  _felt_  wrong.   
  
“I said we needed to get ready if we wanted to make it to the party by eight,” Kurt said.   
  
“Oh.”  Right.  The party.  Blaine had totally forgotten.   
  
For a moment, he felt his vision blur with the thought of all that noise, all those people, and he almost opened his mouth to ask Kurt if they couldn’t just blow it off, just this once, stay home just the two of them and cuddle on the couch.   
  
But it was for Kurt’s work.  He couldn’t ask that of Kurt.  It wouldn’t be fair.   
  
“Is everything okay?”     
  
Kurt was still watching him with that careful look.   
  
“It’s fine,” Blaine said hurriedly.  “I’m fine.”   
  
“Uh huh.”     
  
Kurt sounded skeptical.   
  
“Really,” Blaine insisted.  “Everything’s -”  _fine_ , he meant to say, but instead his breath hitched mid word and he had to stop and shut his eyes tight because what was wrong with him today?   
  
He opened his eyes at the gentle brush of Kurt’s hand on his cheek.     
  
“You took your medicine this morning?”   
  
Blaine nodded mutely.  Of course he had.   
  
“Okay,” Kurt said quietly.  His gaze was still searching Blaine’s face, and Blaine wasn’t sure what he was looking for but he must have found it because all of a sudden his back straightened just a little and Blaine could tell he’d made a decision about something.  “Go take a shower, Blaine.”   
  
“Do I have time for that?”  Blaine glanced at the clock.  It was almost a quarter after seven already.  “When do we have to leave for the party?”   
  
“We’re not.”   
  
Blaine’s gaze shot back to Kurt, shocked.  “What?”   
  
Kurt looked back at him, unphased.  “You heard me.”   
  
“Kurt, no -” Blaine began to protest, but Kurt cut him off with a finger to the lips and an arched eyebrow.   _Are you really going to challenge me on this, Blaine Anderson?_    
  
Blaine dropped his gaze in defeat (and secret, guilty relief) and went to go take his shower.  The hot water felt nice, but still distant, like he wasn’t quite in his own skin, and Blaine didn’t linger the way he sometimes would.  As soon as he was done washing, he turned off the water and started to dry off.   
  
When he entered their bedroom, Kurt was rummaging around in their toy chest.     
  
The sight made Blaine stop short, stomach sinking.  “Kurt, I don’t think-”   
  
“Hush, beautiful,” Kurt interrupted absently, still engrossed in what he was doing.  “And go hang up your towel.”   
  
Blaine swallowed hard but didn’t move.  Kurt was calling him  _beautiful_ , and that meant instant obedience, but -   
  
“I don’t want to play right now, Kurt.  I don’t feel like -”  _having sex, being hurt, being **touched**_ -   
  
Kurt stopped and turned around, expression gentle.  “It’s okay, Blaine.  We’re not going to do a scene right now.”   
  
“But you’re-”  Blaine gestured to the toy chest in confusion.  Why else would Kurt be getting into it?   
  
Kurt came closer, lifting a hand up to caress Blaine’s throat before suddenly snaking around to take a firm hold of the back of Blaine’s neck.  Even feeling as off, as  _wrong_ as Blaine did, the pressure made his breath catch and the tension in his body just the slightest bit less.   
  
“I need you to trust me, Blaine.”   
  
“I always trust you,” Blaine answered automatically, and it was true.   
  
Kurt smiled.  “I know.”  He drew Blaine forward for a brief kiss before releasing him.  “I’m going to tie you up, beautiful.”   
  
It was a statement, not a question, but Blaine couldn’t help but respond anyway.  “You said we weren’t going to play.”   
  
Kurt nodded.  “And we’re not.  I’m just going to take care of you.”   
  
Blaine opened his mouth to say something, he wasn’t even sure what, but Kurt hushed him, placing a silencing finger to his lips.    
  
“If you think this is going to make you feel worse, or does start to make you feel worse, tell me and I’ll stop.  I won’t be mad, or upset.  Nod if you understand.”   
  
Blaine nodded.   
  
“Otherwise,” Kurt continued, voice inexorable, “You don’t get a choice in the matter.  I take care of you.  That’s my job.  Your job is to let me take care of you.”  His voice softened.  “You can also safeword, honey.  Just like always.  At any time, for any reason, okay?”  His finger left Blaine’s lips.   
  
“Okay,” Blaine said quietly.  He didn’t want to safeword.     
  
He didn’t want to be tied up, either.  He didn’t want to do anything, really, except maybe go to sleep and not exist for a while.   
  
He let Kurt take the damp towel.   
  
He stood obediently still as Kurt wrapped rope around his chest, making an intricate pattern ( _karada_ ) Blaine could only feel.   
  
He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the soft slip-slide of rope against his skin, the warmth of Kurt’s hands, the deft confidence in the way Kurt handled the rope, handled  _Blaine_.   
  
It wasn’t like it normally was.   
  
It wasn’t sexual, not even when Kurt was wrapping rope around Blaine’s cock.   
  
It wasn’t overwhelming, the way bondage so often was (although in such a  _good_  way).   
  
But it was nice, the constriction around his ribcage, the care in Kurt’s touch.  It felt -  _safe_.     
  
It felt like love.   
  
Kurt was taking his time with the rope, the way he always did, and Blaine opened his eyes every once in a while to absently admire the artistry, but for once he couldn’t really muster up a proper appreciation for the beauty of it all, and so for the most part he left his eyes shut and let the ache in his wrists build, let his thoughts drift and shoulders relax.  Kurt tapped his forearm, signalling that Blaine should raise his wrists up in front of him, and Blaine did so slowly.  Moving emphasized the restriction of the ropes, made the in and out of each breath so much more contained.     
  
Even standing still as he was now, Kurt looping rope around his wrists ( _double column tie_ ), the rope dug into his skin - just slightly, just  _enough_  that it couldn’t be ignored or forgotten.   
  
A sharp tug on the rope connecting his wrists pulled Blaine off balance, and he stumbled forward a moment before Kurt steadied him.   
  
“There,” his boyfriend said, and Blaine could hear the quiet satisfaction in his voice.  “That’s better, isn’t it, beautiful?”   
  
It was, Blaine admitted to himself, if only a little.  He didn’t say anything, though, and luckily Kurt didn’t seem to be expecting a reply.  The steadying weight of his hold disappeared, and Blaine felt a flash of panic at being cast adrift ( _being anchorless_ ), but it only lasted for a moment and then Kurt was back.    
  
The silk of the blindfold was soothingly cool as Kurt tied it around his head, and another tension eased as another decision was taken out of his hands.  It didn’t matter if he kept his eyes shut or not.  There was darkness and there was Kurt, and nothing else mattered.   
  
Blaine felt Kurt nudging him backwards and obligingly shuffled back, wobbling abruptly when he ran into the edge of the bed and sitting suddenly with a  _thump_.   
  
“Good boy,” Kurt said, and Blaine could hear the approving smile in his voice.  He held onto that approval, wrapped himself in it like a tangible thing, a shield against the sudden rush of cold air that came as Kurt stepped away.   
  
Kurt had him lift one foot, then the other, and then Blaine could feel the worn softness of his pajama pants rustling against his skin as Kurt pulled them up over his knees, wormed them up his thighs.   
  
Blaine couldn’t help but laugh a little even as he awkwardly shifted his weight, trying to help Kurt as much as possible.  “Wouldn’t this have been easier  _before_  you tied my hands?”   
  
Kurt hummed in response.  “I’m sure it would have.”   
  
He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t have to.  The ridiculousness of the situation was already fading away into a warm sense of comfort, of  _helplessness_ , and Blaine didn’t understand how the two feelings could be synonymous but he’d given up on worrying about it, at least for the most part.   
  
It was what it was, and what it was was one of the best feelings in the world.   
  
Kurt must have turned on the stereo, because Blaine could hear the soft strains of his favorite chillax playlist starting as Kurt pushed and pulled and generally manhandled him till he was situated to his liking, cuddled up against Kurt with a blanket wrapped around him, one of Kurt’s arms resting heavily across his body and Kurt’s chest rising and falling in time with his own.   
  
Blaine wasn’t quite sure what to do - it felt nice - amazing, even - but surely Kurt wanted to  _do_  something, didn’t he?   
  
Kurt squeezed his ribs hard.  “Stop thinking so much,” his boyfriend admonished.  “This isn’t a test, beautiful.  Just relax.”   
  
“Okay,” Blaine said quietly, trying to do just that.  He focused again on the feel of the ropes’ restriction, the heaviness between his legs.  He honed in on the rhythm of Kurt’s heartbeat, his lungs, the slow, regular turn of pages above his head as Kurt started to read, and slowly, s l o w l y, Blaine started to drift away.   
  
Kurt always did know how to take care of him, was his last blearily coherent thought.  Kurt always knew.   
  
“Shh, beautiful,” he heard Kurt murmur through the haze.  “It’ll be better in the morning.”

 

 


End file.
